


Below Freezing

by whatsherquirk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Canon, Authority Figures, Awkward Boners, Begging, Captain kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Idiots in Love, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Pining, Praise Kink, Riding, Sharing Body Heat, Shower Sex, Survival, authority kink, idiots to lovers, jean is a captain in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28554453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsherquirk/pseuds/whatsherquirk
Summary: When a mission goes wrong and the name of the game is survival, you and Captain Kirstein must share body heat to make it through the night. What happens when the storm passes is up to you.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Reader
Comments: 43
Kudos: 290





	Below Freezing

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was originally posted on my tumblr @whats-her-quirk.

The trees are thick in this part of the forest, the trunks as wide around as castle towers. It’s hard enough to navigate this dense growth in ODM gear to begin with, but then it started snowing. You still have a long way to travel, your rendezvous point for this mission waiting on the far side of the trees, still miles away. Your face, your hands, your feet: all of them are freezing, and the snow is only getting worse. There wasn’t supposed to be a storm tonight; otherwise, this simple recon mission would have been delayed. You’re about to call out to your team, to ask if anyone else’s limbs are so cold that they can barely control their midair movements, when your side slams into a tree branch you couldn’t even see through the heavy snowfall.

You cry out in pain, clutching your ribs on your right side. It doesn’t feel like you broke anything, but it hurts enough to knock the wind out of you. Your wires go slack and you plummet down several feet in the air, snowy limbs soaking your coat and trousers as they brush against you. You’re falling, falling, until two long arms wrap around your middle and pull you upward again.

You can’t tell who caught you until you hear him shouting over your head. “Visibility is too low for maneuvering! Find a branch and we’ll wait out the storm!” You’d know that voice anywhere; you’d heard it every day for the past two years, since you were selected for his squad: Captain Kirstein.

You squeeze the triggers on your hand grips, releasing your wires now that you’re safely in Jean’s grasp. He loosens one arm from your waist to aim and sink his anchor into the trunk of a massive tree that suddenly comes into view through the snow. For someone as large and lanky as he is, it’s a wonder he’s known for being the best in the scouts with an ODM. But even while holding you tight to the front of him, he soars and lands effortlessly on a wide horizontal branch in the canopy before setting you softly on your feet.

\--

Jean pulls back the fur-lined hood of his coat and searches for eye contact, hoping you aren’t too dizzy to stand. He doesn’t even register how incredibly close he is to you at first, steadying you by the shoulders as soon as his hand grips are stowed away at his sides. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No, I mean, yes, but I’ll be fine. I just couldn’t see, and...” You seem a little lost for words, then you wince and grab your side. Jean quickly gathers you against him, walking the two of you together back toward the trunk of the tree. When he feels the bark against his back, he bends at the knees, pulling you to sit between his legs. He doesn’t let go of you.

“What happened?” He scans over your face, checking to see if your pupils are dilated with a concussion, but it’s too dark to make out more than the shadowy outline of your features. He couldn’t see shit up there either, and he’s worried sick that you hit your head.

You tell him how you hit that rogue branch and lost your bearings. “I’m so sorry, Captain. I shouldn’t have let this happen. You shouldn’t have to halt the mission for me.”

He shushes you immediately. “The snow is too thick, and none of us can see. We’re still too far from the target. It’s safer for everyone if we stop here and head back when the snow is a little lighter.” He tilts his impossibly sharp chin up, looking to see where the rest of the squad has landed, but it’s hopeless in this storm. They should all be up in the trees around you, but Jean hates that he can’t see or hear anyone. He didn’t order this mission, but he’ll never forgive himself if he loses someone to the weather, of all things.

For now, all he can see is you. The only person he can protect is you. He’ll do whatever it takes.

Jean has gotten to know you well since you joined his squad. He was, in all honesty, scared shitless when he was promoted to captain. He almost turned it down, but after thinking it over, he realized that if his superiors believed he could make a difference leading his own team, then he’d do it. It was an uneasy transition, especially awkward since at 21, he’d been one of the youngest scouts to reach that high of a rank. When you joined his team less than a month later, fresh as one of the top ten from your training regiment, he felt much more at ease (even if you weren’t afraid to talk back to him now and again).

He waits for that sassiness he was accustomed to from you, or that sense of humor he so often looked to for reassurance. Instead, you say nothing; your teeth chatter, and you puff little white clouds of breath into the air. You curl into yourself, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around them as you shook, obviously frozen to the bone.

“Here,” Jean says, wrapping his own arms around you, but as soon as he does, he feels it. Your coat—insulated and generously sized but not bulky, a design necessary for midair maneuvering—is soaked. He jumps back before his own jacket gets drenched. “Shit,” he mutters.

The last thing he wants to do is scare you, but he knows this is bad. In the first place, you aren’t dressed for snow. And it’s one thing to be cold, but you’re never going to warm up if you’re wet. You risk hypothermia, or worse. He absolutely will not allow that, but the alternative…

Though your face is tucked deeply into your knees, hood pulled tight around your face, Jean can see you shaking as he pulls down the zipper under his own chin. You look up, and even in the twilight, he can see you frowning. “W-what the hell, Jean?”

He can’t help but smirk. There you are, shivers and all. “That’s Captain,” he scolds playfully. “And relax. We have to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“You can’t just give me your coat, Captain. Then you’ll freeze, dummy.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” His tone is light, mocking, because it’s the only way he’s gonna get through this with his dignity intact, despite the fact that you all learned this in survival training. “We have to share body heat. Come on.”

It’s awkward, extremely so, but it’s for your own safety. Your lips are turning blue, and the only thing he can warm you up with is his own body. You slowly catch on as he lays his coat over his legs and strips off the tight black shirt he’s wearing underneath it. He shoves his arms quickly back inside his coat because fuck, it’s below freezing, but he leaves the front unzipped.

Jean looks away as you peel off your wet clothes, trying to save you some embarrassment too. Once he hears the swish of your coat and the snap of your tight top coming off, he holds the front of his coat open for you to crawl in. He tries not to, but as you move closer, his eyes wander down. He catches a glimpse of your torso, bare except for the simple cloth band many of the scouts wear for support under their clothes. Jean swallows thickly, gaze lingering a little too long on the swell of your breasts over the fabric. As you crawl closer, he wishes he hadn’t looked at all.

“Um.” You mumble as you try to situate yourself. It occurs to Jean that you’re also looking at his bare chest, which he’ll admit is nothing to scoff at, but he can no longer meet your eye.

“Hurry up, before all the snow gets inside my jacket,” he grumbles.

“Sorry, I just don’t know where to-”

“Just, here, face me and put your legs…” Jean helps you slide closer until you’re pressed tight against his chest. He tucks your head under his chin, then reaches for your legs, pulling your thighs around his waist underneath the coat. You cross your ankles around his lower back, but your boots should keep them warm enough. Then, because you don’t do it yourself, Jean takes your hands and wraps your arms around his middle. The coat is never going to zip around both of you, but with his arms in his sleeves, Jean holds the fabric shut across your back like the two of you were locked in a passionate embrace.

Your skin is icy against his, despite the fact that he runs a bit cold in general, even when he’s not out in the snow. Almost immediately, however, you stop shivering, and Jean breathes a little easier. He can keep you warm; he can make sure that you survive the night. He just hopes you can’t feel his heart pounding, or worse, the slight stiffening in his pants that is, to his dismay, pressed almost directly against your ass.

Jean would be a liar if he said he wasn’t attracted to you. To put it plainly, he always thought you were beautiful. But it wasn’t until you really started to show what you were made of that he started to feel something deeper than a passing attraction to you. You're smart, and brave, and strong. So are a lot of soldiers, but the way you use your talents with a quiet confidence never fails to leave him in awe. And truth be told, you aren’t afraid to talk back to him, and though he jokes a lot about reporting you for insubordination, nothing turns him on more than when you toe the line of his authority, in the field or otherwise.

The reasons he hadn’t acted on these feelings were complex ones. There were no definitive rules regarding relationships between soldiers, or between soldiers and their officers, for that matter. The world you live in is a harsh, unforgiving one. If two consenting adults wanted to engage with each other, whether it be merely a hookup or actual love, the Scout Regiment wasn’t going to deny them that. But Jean knew that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be judgment from his peers, sideways glances tossed his way and yours if they two of you were to get involved.

Beyond gossip, he’d never want you to think he was abusing his power to force you into something you weren’t comfortable with. And when he really considers it, the possibility of starting something with you, he fears not only the embarrassment but the pain of rejection. He doesn’t know where you stand on romance and sex and love, not in this path you’ve chosen with the Scouts. You make him a better captain, simple as that, and he can’t risk losing you if something went wrong.

All of these thoughts play in Jean’s mind as he holds you tightly, shielding you from the wind and the snow as best he can. Within minutes, the heat trapped between your skin and his starts to spread, warming up the space under his jacket. You settle against him, pressing your face into his neck in a way that makes Jean worry even more about what’s going on below his belt. He tries to shift his hips back, putting space between you where it counts, but you’re wrapped too tightly around him, clinging to chest for warmth. He has to admit that it’s a nice feeling, your body against his.

So he squeezes his arms a little tighter around you, nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head, breathes in the clean, snowy scent of your slightly damp hair. Your breath draws a light sheen of mist to the surface of his throat, a wet but comforting warmth that spreads up to his neck. Each time Jean inhales, he can feel the swell of your breasts against his rising chest. It takes all he has to ignore the sensation and keep himself calm. Tonight isn’t about lust; it’s about survival.

But if you both make it through this storm, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to hold himself back any longer.

\--

You don’t remember falling asleep, but some stretch of time later, you wake up to a light jostling and Jean’s voice. “Hey, the snow is letting up. We gotta get out of here while we can.” Jean’s gloved hands rub slowly up and down your back over the coat he’s still holding around you.

You groan sleepily as you start to stretch your limbs, peeling your arms away from Jean’s back, your cheek from his chest. The two of you were actually able to create enough heat that it seems you both started sweating, but you decide not to mention it. You’re not sure what kind of state you’d be in if your captain hadn’t offered himself to keep you warm. It’s hardly the time for you to complain about a little sweat, or the crick in your neck from hunching, or the pins and needles in your legs as you remove them from Jean’s waist—

Oh. 

You’re glad it’s still dark out and Jean can’t see you blush when your thigh brushes something hard, and it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what it is. Jean is still pinned against the trunk of the tree, so you plant your feet against it and push yourself away, sliding out of his coat and away from his, uh, morning wood? You’re not sure if it’s morning yet, but that’s how you decide to explain away the fact that Jean absolutely popped a boner.

A horrible thought occurs to you—what if you were doing something embarrassing in your sleep, rubbing up against him or worse, and got him hard? You push the thought away as you turn your back to him and start to pull on your shirt and coat again. No, it probably just happened in his sleep. You shouldn’t flatter yourself or your girlish crush on the captain; it probably had nothing to do with you.

Jean clears his throat behind you, and you realize you’ve frozen (not literally, thank god) mid-thought while zipping up your coat. Shaking it off, you finish putting your gear back on and pull your hood up around your head. Putting on a confident face, you turn and confirm you’re ready to go. Jean nods at you, tight-lipped and solemn, and the two of you take off on your wires through the light flurries left in the wake of the storm that grounded you.

The journey back to headquarters feels much shorter than it should be after fighting your way through the storm to get as far into the forest as you did. The sun is just beginning to crest over the hills past the dense canopy; that means you were out in the storm for at least a few hours. The two of you soar through the trees side by side until the castle comes into sight, at which point Jean—Captain Kirstein—rushes ahead, likely to report to the higher ups and start getting a head count.

You land at the gates not long after he does to find that the two of you are actually the last of your squad to return. After the snow got bad, it was too hard to hear and see each other, too hard to stay together. Despite it all, everyone else is here and accounted for, and you’re overcome with gratefulness that no one was lost to the elements last night. You take a moment to embrace your comrades, overjoyed that everyone is safe and sound. Jean, on the other hand, apologizes to every member of the squad even though it wasn’t his fault you got sent out in a storm. He tells everyone to go inside, warm up, get something to eat, and rest before reporting back later that evening for new orders.

While the others head off toward the barracks in search of hot showers and warm clothes, you hang back. You have some things you need to say first. As Jean waves off the last of the squad members, you catch him by the sleeve of his coat. He spins around, locking you in an embrace that catches you off guard at first. Since you’re pretty sure no one else is around to see, you wrap your arms around him again, clutching him to you like you did up in the tree, realizing how much you missed his form, his smell, his warmth after a night spent in his arms. You shouldn’t feel that way about your captain, but you can’t deny that you do. Your heart pounds when you pull back to look him in the eyes.

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night. You really saved me back there.” You can feel your cheeks start to heat, despite the lingering chill in the air.

To your surprise, your captain blushes too. He lets go of you to rub the back of his neck, unable to quite meet your eyes. “Any time. What kind of captain would I be if I didn’t…” It seems like there’s more to that thought, but he doesn’t finish it.

A gust of wind blows as the two of you stand there outside the castle, just looking at each other, unsure what to say, what to do next. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. You’d been able to keep warm enough to make it through the night, but that didn’t mean you were about to stand outside all day. “So, I think I’m gonna go get warmed up and take a hot shower.” You point your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of your barracks.

Jean reaches out to cover your hand with his own and push it back down to your side. “Come with me and use the officers’ shower.”

Your first instinct is to shake your head. “But I’m not—”

Jean scoffs playfully. “I know that, stupid. But the soldiers’ showers don’t get nearly as warm. It sucks, but it’s true. And ours are more private, so you can take a longer one. It’s the least I can do after the night you had.”

You have a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that you could get in trouble for this, but surely if it was Jean’s idea, you won’t be to blame if you get caught, right? You bite your lip and hesitate. “I don’t know.”

Jean nods in the direction of his quarters and holds out his hand to you. “What if I said it was an order, soldier?” His tone is light, and he’s clearly joking, but something about the slant of his eyebrows tells you there’s more behind it than just friendly ribbing. He’s giving you the choice, but are you going to play along?

You cup your hand and place it in his palm. “Then lead the way, Captain.”

You swear you feel him shiver at the title, despite the fact that you call him that all the time. His hand shifts, fingers threading between yours, and he’s off like a man on a mission.

Jean leads you into the tower that holds the officers’ bunks. You’ve never been past the main entry hall, so you follow him through an arched doorway to a winding stone staircase with a pounding in your chest. You climb to the second floor, the tapping of your boots against the stonework the only thing you hear. He stops at another doorway, peeking around the corner first before squeezing your hand and walking through. You emerge into a hallway lined with wooden doors, empty and quiet by virtue of dawn just breaking outside. 

Jean pulls you through a door about halfway down the hall, into one of the officers’ bathrooms. Looking around, it’s a lot like the soldiers’ bathrooms, plain and lined with the same stone as the rest of the castle, but instead of a line of stalls, sinks, and showers, there’s one of each, as well as a shelf stocked with towels and soap. You can’t remember the last time you had a bathroom all to yourself. Then you realize you’re not alone at all.

Jean stands with his back against the wooden door, arms crossed over his chest, but his knee bounces to a consistent beat, a nervous tick of his. You’d seen it before, but only when he was worried about the outcome of a mission or waiting for punishment to come down from the brass for one thing or another. You feel a swarm of butterflies in your gut when you realize he’s waiting for something, but so are you, and it has something to do with the hard-on situation earlier.

You stare right back at him, but you’re too afraid to break first, too scared you’re misreading the whole situation even though the man followed you into the bathroom. The tension is thick as fog in the air, your fingers itching to reach for him and do something unspeakable under the spray of the shower. Maybe what happened this morning wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe he brought you here to show you that. You rack your brain for a way to ask that doesn’t completely give you away. You settle for, “Can anyone hear us in here?”

“Walls are pretty thick, actually,” Jean remarks, knocking against the gray stone with his knuckles before pushing his back off the wall. You don’t want to think about why he knows that right now. He moves slowly toward you as you focus in on the way his shoulders sway with each lingering step. A few strides and you’re chest to chest with him once again, looking up into his chiseled face with a breath caught in your throat. Jean’s hands smooth up your arms, stopping just below your shoulders to squeeze pointedly.

“So, if you wanted to, I don’t know…” He runs his hands down your arms and back up again, like he’s desperate to touch you. You don’t want him to stop; you’re sure of it, and if you’re going to make a move, it might just be now or never.

Shaking hands lift to squeeze him at the elbows. You bat your lashes once, twice before asking, “Do you want to get warmed up with me, Captain?” Your tongue flicks over the last syllable, and the last thing you see is Jean biting his lip before he pulls you in for a kiss and your eyes flutter closed.

It’s exactly what he wanted; you’re sure of it now.

Jean kisses you deeply, lips pressed hard against yours as his fingers clench into the muscles of your arms. You have to arch your back as he dips his head down, nose brushing yours when he tilts to one side and licks between your lips. With a heavy sigh, laden with the lust of two years behind it, you drop your jaw and let his tongue pass between your lips. Your twitching hands move from his arms to his face, cupping his cheeks as he presses more sloppy, desperate kisses into your mouth, lips popping and slurping against yours as he gathers you tightly in his arms.

It’s you who breaks the kiss after several minutes, feeling drunk off your desire nonetheless. After trailing your fingers down to the corners of his jaw, you gently push his face away. He leans into one more kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulls back, panting. “Is this… ok?” he asks, genuine concern etched into his brightly flushed face.

You thumb at his earlobes, warmth pooling in your belly and lower. “Yes. I want this if you want this.”

“I do. I want you.” Jean’s nervousness has completely washed away, replaced with earnestness and, you suspect, a fire inside that matches your own.

You peel off your coat and reach for the buckles of your harness. “Then what are we waiting for?” 

Jean stares as you begin to undress in front of him a second time, undoing each buckle on your gear, shedding your straps and boots before you start on the layers of clothes underneath. The slack-jawed look on Jean’s face is flattering to say the least as you strip off your shirt and white uniform pants, leaving you in nothing but your underclothes. The way he rubs the heel of his hand between his legs doesn’t hurt either, sending electricity to your core, though he seems to be more or less frozen in place.

He fumbles with his boots and then his coat before you sidle up to help him along. His fingers trip over yours as you both work on his buckles and his shirt buttons. He stops to kiss you after his gear clatters to the floor, distracted as you try and push his shirt off his shoulders. You giggle into his lips, half in disbelief that you’re even here right now, spreading your fingers over his bare chest as he shrugs out of his sleeves. The button and zipper on his pants are the next to go, and as he stumbles getting out of them, you lean into the shower to twist the knob and get the water started.

Jean’s hands find your cheeks again, and he backs you up against the wall outside the shower, smiling into another blissful, messy kiss. He seems almost dizzy as he mumbles, “I like you so much.” You let your hands roam across his back as you hum into the kiss, reciprocating by grinding your hips against his bare thighs.

Feeling the steam beginning to pour out from the shower, something the barracks showers almost never get hot enough to do, you moan and break the kiss again. Your chest is heaving already, and despite a wave of shyness that quickly washes over you, you untie the strings on the back of your chest band and let the fabric fall to the floor at your feet. You can feel Jean staring as both of you slip out of your bottoms, his hand finding its way to your ass as he climbs into the warm spray of the shower behind you.

You step under the water, sighing as it pastes your hair down flat on your head. You don’t really care how it makes you look; it feels so heavenly. So do the two arms that wrap around your waist from behind, Jean’s tall form curling over you once again as he joins you in the under the shower head. His mouth finds the curve of your shoulder, nibbling and pecking at your skin as you both relax and the hot water rushes over you. You can feel his stiff cock against you, long and deliciously thick from what you can tell.

It’s not long before you turn to face him, hungry to kiss him again and appreciate the beautiful body of his that’s usually hidden under all that tactical gear. Your feet splash against the floor as you back yourself up against the wall to admire him before he’s on you again. He slicks his long chestnut hair back and out of his face, the dark, wet strands tucked behind his ears and stuck to the back and sides of his neck. Droplets race down his impossibly broad shoulders, over his toned chest and abs. He stands evenly on his feet, hardened cock on display and straining against the v-line of his lower stomach. You’re already wet, but your mouth waters at the sight.

Before you can drop to your knees and suck him into your mouth, however, Jean pushes you up against the misty stone wall, smooth but not flat against your back. The ridges rub against your spine almost like a massage as Jean presses one of his legs between yours, forcing you up onto your tiptoes. The rounded muscle of his leg drags just hard enough against your sensitive bud to make you moan softly while he nibbles on your neck. His tongue slides against your wet skin until he finds a place to bite down, sucking hard enough to leave a mark you’ll want to cover up later. As he releases his teeth, you speak without thinking. “Oh, Captain.”

Jean fingers dig into your hip bones sharply, his cock twitching as he rumbles out an unsteady string of curses. “Fuck, baby. Goddamn.” He pulls you to him roughly by the jaw, spearing his tongue as far down your throat as it can reach with a low whine. He kisses you like a man starved, and against his solid body, you can’t do anything except hump helplessly on the leg that rests between yours.

When he finally comes up for air, Jean’s eyes are blown, black pupils covering nearly the entire golden irises. His hips bump back against yours as you roll against him, needy and desperate to be filled. “You like when I call you that, hm?” You can’t help but tease him a little, considering the state you’re both in.

“Yeah,” he pants, hands moving across your body like he can’t decide where to grab, where to grope you next. “That’s what I am, right? And you follow your Captain’s orders, right baby?”

Your poor, neglected pussy clenches against nothing at his sultry baritone. Meanwhile, your body relaxes to the point of near limpness under his hands. “Yes, Captain,” you pledge in an airy, almost whining tone.

Jean’s eyebrows arch as he pulls at your hips. “Then turn around, soldier, and put your hands on the wall.”

Fingertips dig under your hip bones, spinning your pliant body around so that you’re facing the wall and the showerhead. You let Jean handle you into position, pushing down on your back until you hing at the hips and walking you forward so that you and anchor your slippery hands against the wall. You bend your knuckles, clinging to the rocks in order to hold up your own weight as the shower spray beats down on the small of your back.

You hear the splashing behind you as Jean strokes himself before wedging a foot between yours, spreading your legs wider. You feel one of his hands settle on your spine while the other reaches under you, teasing your folds apart and padding over your clit before sliding easily into your hole. You can’t help but moan and press your hips back, urging his finger deeper inside you as he curls it in, knuckle by knuckle. In a lower pitch, Jean asks, “You ready for me already?”

You whimper helplessly and repeat your mantra, “Yes, Captain. Please.”

“Good girl.” Jean guides the tip of his cock to your cunt, swirling just the head around in tight circles as you clench greedily around him. You moan again and buck backwards, turning Jean’s chuckle into a sharp inhale. Instead of teasing you, he pushes inside you until he’s fully seated inside and pulsing for you. You feel the muscles of your cunt pulling apart, stretching to accept him with an exquisite burning.

The long, guttural moan you let out spurs Jean to start thrusting, his pace slow and calculated at first and filling every inch of you. He pulls back until he’s almost entirely out before snapping back in a fluid motion, every ridge and vein on his shaft rubbing against that sensitive ring on the way. He holds himself inside each time, grinding his hips against your ass as the fleshy head of his cock nuzzles against your cervix.

You lose your voice, unable to speak between the moans he’s pulling from you, but that doesn’t stop Jean from talking you through it. “Fuck, you feel amazing. Better than I imagined, baby.” Your core tightens at the praise, the muscles in your legs tightening as you clamp down around Jean’s length. As your hands start to slip down the shower wall, you dig in with your finger tips and let out another long moan.

Jean’s pace begins to quicken, each tap of his hips against you splashing spurts of water up your back and down your legs. His heavy balls slap against your pussy from this angle, sending reverberations up through your belly. You clench and squirm as he pounds into you harder, jostling your grip on the wall. When one of your hands slides off the stone, sending you wobbling, Jean doesn’t miss a beat. One arm wraps around under your stomach to steady you while his other hand finds your neck, fingers curling around your nape only enough to hold you in place.

You can’t help but cry out for him, voice echoing off the wall in front of you and back in your face. “Captain, please. So close!”

Jean’s hand tightens around your neck, putting the slightest pressure to the sides of your windpipe but sending you reeling with gasps regardless. Your cunt tingles and pulses, squeezing down on him hard as he continues jackhammering into you from behind. Far too loudly, Jean barks back, “I got you, soldier. Touch yourself, make yourself cum with me.”

You let one hand fall from the wall and reach back toward your own clit. You press down on that little button, rubbing back and forth in the motion you know well, the one you’ve used on yourself in bed before while imagining a situation not unlike this one. The pressure builds so quickly until the need to release is painful, almost unbearable, until Jean’s voice, pleading, “Baby, baby, come on,” pushes you over the edge and you break with a sob.

Your legs tremble, and you have to trust Jean to keep you from hitting the floor. You’re still shaking when he pulls out seconds later, pumping cum over the curve of your ass. He groans low and gravelly, choking on the sound as he removes the hand from your neck to pump the rest of his mess onto the backs of your legs before everything is quickly washed away by the water pouring down your back.

Still panting, Jean pulls you upright against his chest and rests his chin on your shoulder as you both come down from the high. You feel wrecked and blissed out all at once, completely safe and secure in Jean’s arms as he begins to trail kisses up and down your neck between heavy breaths. You let yourself melt back against him, his body strong and stable despite the crumbling release he found only minutes before.

You expect him to let you go eventually, but he doesn’t. His hands don’t leave you, instead smoothing up the skin of your stomach and finding the curves of you breasts and cupping them with a light squeeze that makes you rub your tired thighs together.

“Baby.” He whispers it against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the patter of water on rocks. “I’m… I still want…”

You reach up, finding the back of his neck and playing with the wet strands of hair you find there. “You want more?” You crane your chin back for a drunken kiss, so wrapped up in him you’d agree to just about anything.

Jean hums affirmation from his throat. “Want to see you cum again for me. Want you to ride me.” He mumbles, his eyes closed and lips soft against yours.

You trace the sharp line of his long jaw before breaking the kiss once more and turning off the shower. As the last of the water trickles out of the showerhead, you find Jean’s shoulders, allowing yourself to hang off of them. “How far to your room?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Just down the hall. Grab a towel.”

The two of you, warm from the water though you never made it as far as washing with soap, wrap up in the towels from the shelf. You gather your clothes and gear, and so does Jean before cracking open the door and peeking into the hall.

“Coast is clear. Follow me, and be quick.” A certain giddiness has returned to his tone, and you can’t help but giggle as the two of you scuttle, barefoot and dripping, down the hallway to one of the last rooms on the right. Just as you arrive at his door, you hear wood creaking from the far end of the hall. Another door creaks as Jean rips his door open, and you rush inside with a squeal. He laughs and follows you safely inside.

The room is small and modest, nothing to brag about, but private and comfortable. Jean’s bed is neatly made, sheets tucked in at the headboard over a fluffed pillow. “Do you think someone heard us?” you turn to him and ask as you drop your gear in a pile at the foot of his bed. 

He drops his gear along with his towel, then reaches for your chin. “Does it matter?” he asks seductively before pulling you into a searing kiss. Your tongues twist together, and you drop your towel, letting it pool around your feet before pressing yourself flush against Jean again.

He smiles into the kiss before bending at the knees and grabbing you under the ass. He lifts you, but before you can even wrap your legs around his trim waist, he turns and falls backwards onto his bed with you on top of him. You push him up on the mattress until his wet hair is soaking into the bulge where his pillow is tucked in, but Jean doesn’t give his bedsheets a second thought. He’s too busy taking advantage of this new position and his free hands.

Legs spread wide and unashamed, you straddle his waist and brace yourself on his muscular shoulders. You’re not above taking advantage of the situation either, letting your head dip forward and latching your teeth onto his neck. Jean sighs, his pitch rising this time, as you lathe your tongue up and down his neck, kissing at his Adam’s apple as it bobs under your mouth. You suck a line of kisses down to his collarbones, planning to mark him in return but choosing a slightly more subtle location. As you choose a spot in the center, just under the column of his throat, Jean’s fingers lace into your hair, pulling tight against your scalp and anchoring you in place as you bite and suck at his flesh, still steamy from the shower.

He whines as you pull away from his chest with a pop, peppering more kisses up the opposite side of his throat to his ear. Your thighs squeeze tight against his waist, and the hand that’s not twisted in your hair reaches down to knead your ass. As Jean rubs circles into the swell of your cheek with his thumb, you pull his earlobe into your mouth with a soft groan from your chest. You grate your teeth down the lobe before wrapping your tongue around the shell of his ear and sucking, tasting the water that’s dripping off his hair and onto your face and the blankets. Jean gasps when you discover a weak spot where the cartilage connects to his jaw. He squirms under you, rearing back against his pillow before landing a loud slap to your ass cheek. You give yourself away, moaning at the sound and the slight sting of his palm.

Jean whimpers again, reduced to an entirely different man than the one you fucked in the shower, but an intoxicating and delicious one nonetheless. His eyes are closed when you pull back from his ear, and he thrashes against the pillow as you rake your nails down his pecs, grazing over his pert nipples as you do.

“Please, baby,” he bursts out, no longer in control of himself or his actions. “Please, fuck. Ride my cock, please, please, baby.” He repeats himself, voice breaking over syllables here and there. When he begs so pretty, how could you possibly deny him, and yourself, the satisfaction?

You crawl backwards, lowering yourself over his cock, which stands tall and hard against his stomach again. You wrap one hand around the shaft, pumping him quickly and spreading the bead of precum around his head as he moans helplessly beneath you. His hands find purchase on your thighs, and you rise up onto your knees to coat yourself with the weeping tip of his cock before guiding him inside and sitting down on his lap.

Jean groans your name as you grind your hips, making figure eights with his cock inside you, feeling his painfully hard length drag against your inner walls with each rotation. Jean can’t stand it for long before he grabs you by the hips and starts to bounce you up and down on top of him. You squeak and squeal as he pistons up into you, ramming his cock in and out of your hole desperately. The wet sounds squelching between you are positively sinful as you ride him, still wiggling your hips as he thrusts in and out of you. But the best sound you hear are the shaky, whimpering breaths Jean sucks in every time he bottoms out inside you.

In this position, his length plays to his advantage, and as he pulls you down onto his cock again and again, he taps your cervix with more force. You don’t care who can hear you, not anymore, as you cry out on top of him. “Jean, fuck,” you moan amidst a mumbled mess of lewd sounds, only winding Jean up even more as he writhes beneath you.

His eyes pop open as he fucks into you roughly, without abandon, chasing the high that’s just out of his grasp. Your jaw drops open as he stares up at you with awe and desperation, and then he starts to beg again. “Please, baby. Fuck, oh my god. Please, please, can I cum inside this time? Please, oh fuck, please.”

“Yes, fill me up, I want it,” you moan. You wanted his seed inside you before he even asked, but hearing him plead for you twists the coil inside you until it snaps, and you cum first again with a sharp cry. Your lower body locks up as you crest over the waves of your pleasure, clenching down as Jean fucks into you roughly from below. Finally, his back arches up into you, and he throws his head back as he pumps his hot cum inside you. His hips stutter to a stop as he buries himself deep inside you, milking everything he has to give into your dripping pussy until he softens.

Your muscles scream as you force them to unclench. You pull yourself off Jean’s cock, both of you hissing at the sensitivity before you roll over to his side. Though he’s still panting, he doesn’t wait before rolling to face you and pulling you into his chest. He holds you against him, stroking your damp hair and kissing the top of your head in the sincerest show of appreciation and care you’ve maybe ever known.

“That was…” he finally pants out, “wow.”

“Yeah. Amazing,” you agree, lips moving against his chest.

Slowly, Jean’s grip on you loosens, until he’s lightly caressing your cheek with the side of his finger as he stares into your eyes. “Guess I should have confessed a long time ago,” he admits with a chuckle.

You shake your head. “As long as we can do this again, I don’t even care that it took this long.”

He smiles dreamily, sleepily back at you, the fondness in his eyes enough to almost make you well up in tears. You’d waited so long for this, and it was more perfect and fulfilling than you ever could have imagined. Jean kisses your nose as you lie together, a mess of limbs that you never want to untangle. “I’ll take you for as long as you’ll have me. We can do this a million more times.”

You peck his lips before you tease, “Is that an order, Captain?”

Jean rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

You nod your head. “Yes, sir.” 

Jean draws in a breath before tucking you back against his chest. “Nope. Don’t start that now. Time for sleep.” He helps you climb under the covers with him, your naked bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as he curls himself behind you until the shared body heat and the beating of your two hearts lulls you both to sleep.


End file.
